


surround me, hold me deep beneath your waves

by brushstrokes



Series: the emotion [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, zouis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5926897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brushstrokes/pseuds/brushstrokes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>and if louis is the sun, then zayn is his moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	surround me, hold me deep beneath your waves

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic i've posted on here ? i listened to electric love by borns the entire time i wrote this, which is also where i got the title from. if you have any comments/suggestions please leave some !  
> (come talk to me on my tumblr: @zaleidoscope)

the sun is in his eyes again; zayn’s face is a facade to the light in front of him.

it’s not the actual sun; it’s louis, but  _technically_ , that counts as the sun, right ?

his eyes are almost as blue as the pacific- no, zayn takes that back- they’re bluer  _than_  the pacific. he’s wearing an old black hoodie, probably with holes in the pockets; almost like the holes they had when they were younger.

nothing could fulfill their dreams back then. what could, was how they managed to run away from their problems together.

one day, they ran away from each other. it could’ve been an accident, for all zayn knows, but he knows it wasn’t. some people you leave, others you outgrow. and that’s okay. it’s  _fine_.

zayn’s supposed to feel fine, but he feels like someone’s grabbed his throat from the inside-out; to cage the words within themselves- like how zayn used to be caged within himself.

he didn’t expect it to be louis when they told him there was someone who wanted to see him; he thought it was a fan who might’ve wanted a photo, or wanted to show him their artwork.

in hindsight, he should’ve known who it was- he doubts security would let any fans through to him, especially on his first night.

zayn knows he should talk to him. he knows he should try to hold a conversation. there’s no rolling waves of _i love you_ anymore, just subtle stirrings of _i miss you_.

it makes zayn want to rip out the bones in his body and throw them at louis; to make him catch _pieces_ of zayn, since he could never catch the entirety of zayn’s being.

there’s one day zayn  _knows_ he’ll never forget- the day they first moved in together. they had bought silk bed sheets, in a soft pearl colour that shined whenever the sun was in the right place.

zayn would joke and say that louis was always in the right place anyway, so they didn’t need the sun to make the sheets look pretty; with louis lying there, it already felt like something zayn could paint onto a canvas.

zayn had butterfly bones and louis had a jackrabbit heart, encased inside a glass ribcage. louis used to trace patterns over zayn’s back every morning after waking up, and every night before he fell asleep.

it calmed him- feeling the smooth, cold skin against his fingers as they glided over the plains of zayn’s back. he told zayn it _calmed_ him- zayn told louis it calmed him as well.

it calmed zayn, knowing that louis was always behind him, close, and breathing right next to him- he could feel louis’ soft breath on his collar bones every night, and he fell asleep to the rhythm of his chest rising and falling.

louis was like sunshine in a bottle that zayn kept in his back pocket, and took with him wherever he went; he didn’t want to share with anyone else, but he kept louis behind himself to keep himself warm.

it was like that when they slept; louis behind him, and the back of zayn’s head pressed right up to louis’ neck.

there was never any real obstacle for them, ever; the only thing that separated them was a phone call.

so now, with louis standing in front of him, eyes looking everywhere but where zayn is, zayn wants to change things back to the way they were.

when things were  _soft_ , and  _good_ , and  _easy_ ; but that’s not how things work for them.

they are soft boys with soft hands and sharp words; with edges as cold as their apartment in london. their apartment that they could never afford, realistically- but somehow louis made it work. somehow, louis managed to make everything work.

zayn thinks this is it- if he can do this, then louis will come back to him, and zayn will be okay with not being able to find himself in his own reflection.

so, he stands up from the leather couch he was sitting on, and walks slowly to where louis is standing; his head is lowered now, eyes glued to the floor.

zayn wants to kiss his (probably) pouted lips until he smiles; louis has a crinkly smile, one that reminds zayn of  _stars_ for some reason. but then again, louis makes zayn feel more poetic than he actually is.

louis makes him feel like they’re constellations in the sky; with the same sun and moon, but always parallel from each other- never touching, but next to each other. it makes zayn feel like he could live forever, and if he doesn’t fuck up with louis, he probably will.

he hopes louis will want to live that long as well; zayn _hates_ the dark, and the night always gets darker when you’re lonely.

he’s in front of louis now; he rests his chin on top of louis’ feather-hair covered head. he goes on to wrap both hands around his petite build- and no, louis isn’t short, but his bones make zayn feel like he’s holding a newborn sometimes; this time especially.

louis sniffles.

“you got a cold ?”

“no.”

zayn smiles weakly.

“maybe if you start wearing the shoes you buy-”

“shut the fuck up.”

zayn laughs at this, and louis raises his head to look him in the eye.

louis’ eyes are squinted, like he’s the one with the sun in his eyes now.

“if you haven’t noticed, i am wearing shoes.”

“you’re wearing socks, actually.”

louis raises an eyebrow at this, wrapping his arms around zayn’s lithe waist.

“well, either way, my feet are covered. so it does count, _actually_.”

zayn raises an eyebrow back at him, tightening his hold on louis’ body- louis does the same.

they tighten and tighten their grip; until louis breaks the contest with a giggle.

 _a fucking giggle_. that’s all it takes for zayn to become weak.

he leans forward and catches louis’ lips with his own.

“mmf” is all the comes out of louis’ mouth before he registers what’s happening.

he doesn’t kiss back.

not until zayn pulls back, mumbles a “ _kiss me back you dick_ ”, and goes back to tracing louis’ upper lip with his tongue.

so louis, _finally_ , reciprocates the action, gripping zayn’s jacket tightly.

they kiss and they kiss and they kiss. for so long, that zayn thinks he should rewrite the dictionary- to put in new synonyms for the word “ _love_ ”.

then suddenly, louis pulls away from him.

“wouldn’t want me to miss the show, would you ?” he smirks, licking his lips and running out of the dressing room.

zayn blinks. once, twice, three times, before he realizes louis left, and that they had made out for a good ten minutes.

so now, fifteen minutes till zayn has to go on stage, he begins to doubt himself; begins to doubt the music he’s put out for the world to hear.

zayn isn’t nervous. he swears he isn’t.

but when there’s an arena of people, lights, and posters with your name, not everything feels the way it usually does.

he closes his eyes and wraps both hands around his waist; hugging the leather jacket wrapped around his cold body.

everything turns to dust, and that’s all zayn wants to do right now; disappear into the ground, into a dark hole.

it would be dark, but he knows someone would find him.

however, that _someone_ won’t have to look hard to find him- since that _someone_ just ran out of his dressing room to go back to his seat, in the same arena that zayn’s performing in.

five minutes is all he has now.

something buzzes in zayn’s back pocket- his phone.

he takes it out and focuses his eyes on the small bright screen.

two words are all it takes to suspend his breath from coming out of his mouth.

 _good luck_.

**Author's Note:**

> i know this is really short, but since it's part of a series, i'll have 2/3 more independant works posted soon !


End file.
